


Hopefully Devoted

by PagetPaulson



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PagetPaulson/pseuds/PagetPaulson
Summary: We Support Thomas Gibson.





	

They hadn't had an actual conversation for almost two weeks unless it had been about their son. After Hotch's meeting with Strauss he had closed the younger brunette off, not wanting to let her see what he was clearly hiding underneath that mask he wore day in and day out.

Emily had tried her best, her hardest to get the older man to say at least a sentence without bringing up what had to be done for Jack or asking what she wanted for dinner.

For two nights she had cried herself to sleep just waiting for him to come to bed, but he kept himself locked away in his study. On the third night, she made sure to wait until she heard him coming up the stairs before she marched her way to Jack's room so she could share his bed.

She had thought long and hard about it, and if their marriage was in trouble the least they could do was talk about it.

Closing her second file she had finished that day, Emily stood from her seat.

"Princess, want to grab a bite?"

The brunette woman silently shook her head before making her way up to her husband's office.

Watching his friend walk away without a word, Derek frowned. "Reid," he called, looking to the genius making his way back from the kitchenette. "Something wrong with Prentiss?"

Reid's eyes followed the female in question. "She's been quiet," he shrugged, watching as the older woman stopped her stride. Stepping closer to his desk, he could see her hand clenching at her side before she used it to grip the railing. "Has she been frustrated?"

Derek kept his eyes on his partner. "Only a little. She said they were having some trouble with Jack, but she and Hotch have been awfully quiet."

The younger man sat down, his head nodding. "They haven't been having lunch together, and they refused Rossi's invitation to dinner last Saturday." He took a slow sip of his coffee. "Hotch hasn't come down to check on her like he usually does after that meeting with Strauss."

Emily could hear their voices quiet as she took a step toward her husband's office. She could never admit this to anyone who asked, but she sometimes grew scared of Hotch. It wasn't that it was intentional, she knew he would never hurt her. But he had a way of icing you out within a minute when he was angry, and when he yelled it made her want to break down and cry. Right now she wished he would scream at her. At least that would mean they were talking.

She could see through the blinds on his window, and her breath stopped. He was looking at a photo of their son on Santa's lap, that melancholy look in his eyes he'd get when he was trying not to hold back tears reflecting in the glass.

Turning swiftly on her heel, Emily made her way back down the catwalk stairs and rushed through the bullpen's doors.

"Emily?"

The agent brushed off JJ's hands and walked past her, making her way into the women's restroom. Her hands on the bathroom sink's edge, she took a breath, ignoring the reflection before her.

"Em?"

Her head popping up, the agent watched her blond friend walk through the door. "I'm ok," she said quickly, shaking her head.

JJ watched for a silent moment.

Her face was pale, her shoulders straight, and those brown eyes were hard, hiding the emotions she didn't want JJ to see.

"What's going on?"

Emily shook her head once again. "Nothing. I just needed a moment."

The mother of two smirked. "The queen of compartmentalization needed a minute by herself? Since when?"

Emily did her best to smile. "I'm ok," she said again, her voice soft. "I just need to think."

"About?"

It was something about the younger woman that made Emily want to spill all her secrets. "I don't know," she admitted in a pained whisper. Her eyes stung and she looked away from her friend. "Aaron has been down lately and I haven't been able to get him to talk to me. He won't even kiss me anymore," she shrugged, "and now I'm sleeping in Jack's bed just so the mattress beside me is warm."

JJ wanted nothing more than to wrap the older woman up in a hug, but knowing Emily she would just push her away.

"If he won't even look at me how am I supposed to get him to talk?"

The younger woman took a cautious step forward. "You haven't told him how you feel?"

Emily huffed. "I tried about a week ago and he ignored me." Finally turning her head, she looked at herself in the mirror. "It was like I wasn't even there."

JJ watched as those familiar dark eyes squeezed themselves shut. "I think that when you get home tonight, you have to sit him down. We both know how he can get, and if you don't let him know what's going on in your mind, everything is going to blow up."

The brunette, feeling like she had become a single mother and woman in the past few days, used her knuckles to wipe the tears from underneath her eyes.

"You'll regret it if you don't."

Emily knew she was right, but more than anything, she was scared. She wasn't sure if she could finally have that dreaded conversation with Hotch and not burst into tears.

Taking a paper towel and wetting it, she dabbed the cloth against her skin. "Can we talk later?" Maybe if more files were before her eyes instead of her own tears then she would have a better day."

Watching until her friend left the room, Emily took the towel and wiped the corners of her eyes, noticing her liner starting to smudge. Without a deep breath, the brunette straightened her shoulders and walked herself out of the bathroom, only to bump right into the man she was fearing.

Her breath was shallow, feeling like she had just run a marathon, and her eyes were quick to look up into his.

"Can we talk?"

Emily gulped. She wasn't ready for that.

Immediately he could see the worry in his wife's eyes, and he hesitated to reach out and touch her. "I'm sorry, but now is all I have. Do you mind?"

Choking back the 'no' that she felt hiding in the back of her throat, the brown eyed woman gave herself a moment to breathe before nodding.

When he reached for her hand, Emily knew he must have felt his heart break just as hers did when she pulled it away.

They entered the elevator after an excruciatingly silent wait, Emily finding herself moving off to the side where Hotch stood the farthest from. Squirming, she kept her eyes away from her husband. Never once had she felt afraid of her husband, scared to talk to him after she had waited all this time. Of course she wanted him to talk, she was glad he finally took her side, but now she wasn't sure if she was ready herself.

When the elevator dinged she carefully followed the older man out into the East Wing parking lot garage. "We couldn't just talk inside?" she tried to joke, her words quiet.

Hotch smiled, leading the brunette to the car he'd taken himself to work in.

Once they were both in, Hotch looked to his wife and saw her gaze directed out the window.

She was upset, he knew that, but he wasn't allowed to talk about it until everything was finalized.

"I'm sorry."

Her dark eyes fluttered shut at the words.

"If I could have spoken to you sooner, I would have," he said regrettably. "I know it's been hard on us, but maybe it's all for the best."

Emily's brow furrowed, finally turning to look at the older man. "What are we even talking about, Aaron?"

He took a breath. "I've been let go."

Hotch watched the torment and twister of emotions flood through those dark eyes he had fallen in love with as the realization hit her.

"What?" It felt as if she had gotten the wind knocked out of her. "What do you mean you've been let go?" She tried to swallow as her throat grew dry. "Strauss fired you?"

The married man felt his eyes grow heavy as he looked to his hand on the wheel. "Strauss heard about the argument with Williamson a few weeks ago and has decided, because of my temper, I am no longer a viable asset to the FBI."

Emily's fists clenched, her eyes wide. "Because you defended yourself against some prick who came at you during a meeting? Why isn't he fired?"

"Only two other agent were there to give eye witness testimony," he sighed. "Strauss twisted their words, saying because I raised my voice it was my fault for him charging at me."

The brunette wished she had something to break, her finally grown nails making her skin bleed. "So because you raised your voice, that vermin," she growled, "can throw a punch?"

"She said my temper has because too much and I can put others in danger."

"When?" Emil demanded to know. "When have you lost your temper in this office?"

Hotch rubbed his fingers into the deepest crease of his forehead. "When I told that officer to sit down and shut up, when you and Reid were in the compound and I went above the officer's head, slamming my hands and screaming during interrogations."

The younger woman watched as her husband quieted down, his shoulders deflating as they sat quietly for a moment. "Did she bring up Foyet?"

His silence was the only answer she needed.

"Aaron," she whispered, moving as close as she could to the console between them, "Foyet was not your fault."

He noticed how she was still afraid to take his hand as he nodded. "I know." It had been over four years now. He knew he did what he had to. "But there's nothing we can do now."

Emily could have laughed. "Nothing?" Williamson had gotten into fights with agents before, sending one to a hospital and threatening the lives of two younger agents who were close to taking his spot in Counter Intelligence.

The brunette woman felt tears prick her eyes. He had even made fun of her and Doyle.

_"At least he got laid," he had laughed as she passed him in the parking garage. "Some women around here only put out if their men can persuade them with their weapons," Williamson joked, his eyes meeting Emily's as she walked with Penelope toward the building's entrance._

_Penelope had taken her hand, trying to pull her toward the doors. "Ignore him."_

_Williamson walked up to them, his eyes drifting down Emily's body. "Still have that scar, Emily?" His hand made a move for her belt. "Did he give it to you because you couldn't get on your knees fast enough?"_

_Before he could get his hand any closer, Emily had him flat on his face with one punch._

He had been put on suspension for two months.

Finally reaching over the gear shift, Emily set her hand to her husband's leg. "There has to be something we can do. He can't just keep getting away with this."

Hotch held in his sigh, his eyes looking out to the two cars leaving the lot. "Strauss has been waiting to get rid of me for a decade. Nothing can change her mind."

"What about the director?"

Hotch's head shook. "She showed him the transcripts of her interviewing the agents who saw and that was enough for him."

Emily couldn't stop herself from covering her trembling lips with her hands.

"Darling," he whispered, taking her hands. "Don't cry."

Her head shook violently, feeling her tears land on her hips. "There has to be something we can do," she pleaded. "They have to understand how important you are to this unit. How can they think someone who sits at a desk all day is more of an asset than you are? And after all he's done?"

When Hotch stayed silent, already able to come to terms with his situation, Emily forced her door open to escape the confines on the car. "Emily!" The Unit Chief quickly exited the car, rounding the SUV to met her.

Emily, with tears spilling from her eyes, threw her arms around the older man's neck to take him into a hug.

"It'll be ok," he whispered, his lips against her curls.

Her fingers clenched in the material of his suit jacket as she tried not to cry. Hotch had given his all for this team, his teammates, the victims of these crimes, and now all of that was just gone.

"This isn't fair." Pulling away from her husband, she was quick to wipe her eyes dry. "There has to be something we can do."

Hotch let her try and think for a minute, seeing the overwhelmed look in her eyes. "Like?"

She could insist on talking to her mother who absolutely adored her husband, but Hotch would never go for that. They could go to court, but with the doctored testimonies from the eye witnesses, they didn't really have a case. "I don't know," she swallowed, "but I'll think of something."

Her heart broke as they walked back up to their floor and into his office, all his belongings in those sad brown boxes. With all eyes locked on the,, the couple carried all of Hotch's achievements from the building and into the SUV he'd driven to work. Without question Emily followed him from the building and drove behind him until they reached home.

She ran from her car, wrapping her arms around her husband before he had the chance to fall to the ground.

Sobbing into her neck, he barely realized Emily sitting them on their front steps, her hands on his back and fingers in his hair. Her neck drenched from his tears, Emily kept her hold tight on him, her tears never falling.

...

It takes a lot to betray the man who led you for ten years, who saved your life not just once, and made sure he got himself fired before he would let you get in trouble.

Taking a long sip from her wine glass, Emily rolled her neck. Maybe it wasn't exactly betrayal, but it sure felt like it.

Not a single member of the team they had called their family had agreed to give up their job.

Dave didn't need to work - a retired millionaire just looking for a way to pass the time - but with Hotch gone he was a shoe-in for Unit Chief.

Reid was only thirty. He could have any job he wanted with his brain and his shot, the shot Hotch had helped him perfect, but he refused to risk his interview for a secondary position working for Strauss herself.

Morgan was a different story, already planning on leaving to be with his new son at home, but hearing about Hotch's firing he didn't wait the extra week to hand in his resignation.

Penelope. Penelope had been so good to them, to both of them, but she knew nothing but computers. And with her criminal record, where would she go? Remembering Hotch was the one to take her in instead of send her to jail apparently wasn't on her agenda for the day.

And JJ. JJ had been her best friend and Hotch's confidant for years. They thought maybe the least she could do was meet with Strauss, possibly head back to the Pentagon because whatever skills she possessed were so favorable only two years ago. But no.

Quickly wiping her tears before they could make the journey to her cheeks, Emily sucked back another sip of her wine. She just didn't understand. Hotch had helped everyone to get to where they were, he had invited them to his home and made them a family. Where did their loyalties lie?

Emily sniffled, looking over to where her husband and son lay sleeping in the recliner. Just as Jack fell asleep on Hotch's chest, the former Unit Chief cried himself to sleep. Emily could still see his tearstains painted on his cheeks.

Picking up her pen, the brunette thought back on everything she had shared with those who had now gone against her husband. She had let them into her life, into Hotch's and into Jack's. They were even in her wedding.

She knew she should be used to being let down, but these people were the ones she told everything to, shared memories with.

Maybe it meant more to her than it did to them.

As she signed her name at the bottom of the page, she cried. She could see her tears on the paper as she thought about everything they had been through.

She had to do it for her family.

Walking into work the next day, she let Hotch, who hadn't left her alone all morning, wait in the hall for her as she stepped into Strauss's office. When her assistant tried to tell the brunette that Strauss was in a meeting, Emily just sent her a smile.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, the agent walked into the office to see Strauss sitting with Reid and the director.

"Agent Prentiss, I'm busy at the moment."

Emily kept herself quiet as she walked up to the desk, slipping her resignation paper onto the file the Section Chief was looking at.

Her jaw clenched. "Agent Prentiss," she said lowly, "I hope you know what you're doing."

As Emily unclipped her gun from her holster, the blond behind the desk refused to look up to her. "I would rethink this if I were you, Emily."

Emily wanted to grin, finally able to rub it in the older woman's face that she was finally done with her and her tricks, but her eyes were hard and her teeth gritting, almost throwing her badge and gun down onto the desk. "Let's see how well you do without us."

She didn't wait for a response nor meet the eyes of the others in the room as she turned and marched out of the office, finding her husband waiting by the glass doors for her.

Holding out his hand, Hotch let Emily slip hers into his and lead him into the elevator. "Don't you want to get your stuff?"

"It's just stuff," she shrugged. Waiting until the doors opened, her hand tightened around her husband's. She could feel everyone's eyes on them. "I have you."

Hotch led the brunette woman into the elevator and felt her arms wrap around his waist. Those big brown eyes tugged at his heart strings.

As the doors closed, she looked at him like he was the only other person in the world. "You're all I need."


End file.
